Free AI web copilot to create summaries, insights and extended knowledge, download it at here

Abstract

eat with the dead, in silence, to simply say, <i>not in my name, </i>to proclaim,<i> not in my fucking name</i></p><p id="1226">even if you know your words can never compete with the money pouring in from the arms’ lobby, as money talks louder than morals and ethics</p><p id="b729">to politicians who speak through two sides of their mouths, verbally condemning atrocities from some countries, while funding and endorsing atrocities from other countries</p><p id="b985"><i>but don’t let my absence or my loss of appetite ruin your Thanksgiving feast, as you always knew I was a little strange, and a little sensitive, the estranged poet who writes for some psychic site called Medium</i></p><p id="c369"><i>poems never hurt anyone, and you can’t load them like a fire arm or bomb buildings with them or bribe politicians with their metaphors or threaten dictators with their moral thrust</i></p><p id="53b7">your family can eat in peace, chuckling between bites of cranberry and candied yams, and white turkey flesh, quietly shaking their heads at the expatriated black sheep</p><p id="35f6">because you will bleat in scapegoated agreement, knowing it’s not personal, that humans will be humans, and life will continue even in the midst of death</p><figure id="a9b4"><img src="https://cdn-images-1.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:800/1*fD_xuWjWFq37Rp9WGiFoBg.jpeg"><figcaption>Photo by <a href="https://unsplash.com/@purzlbaum?utm_content=creditCopyText&utm_medium=referral&utm_source=unsplash">Claudio Schwarz</a> on <a hre

Options

f="https://unsplash.com/photos/person-holding-a-brown-meat-xIv6e4kPNcM?utm_content=creditCopyText&utm_medium=referral&utm_source=unsplash">Unsplash</a></figcaption></figure><p id="7877"><b>© Carlo Zeno 2023</b></p><p id="ce6f">____________________</p><p id="526c">Thanks for reading, and thank you to <a href="undefined">Franco Amati</a>. Here are two more recent poems below:</p><div id="d99b" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/when-you-have-no-words-6d2ffda0f99d"> <div> <div> <h2>When You Have No Words</h2> <div><h3>Tonight’s small offering</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/1*nN9gftOwi0X1gEF8EMu5aQ.jpeg)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div><div id="5b9b" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/yielding-to-the-worlds-poison-cc5e4a2f3603"> <div> <div> <h2>Yielding To The World’s Poison</h2> <div><h3>Finding sweetness in the bitterness</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/1*plBwjwKjG3nf6ucpSW62EA.jpeg)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div></article></body>

The Unspeakable

Attempting to communicate

you were trying to get through to the board, the panel of politicians, asleep in their own stink of rich people’s interests

when corpses no longer spoke loud enough, and were easily drowned out by the sound of silky green money pouring in from Lockheed Martin and the NRA

you were trying to pierce through the bullshit armor of business-as-usual, sounding the alarm that children were dying, and what if one of the kids were your own, would you care then?

don’t speak of such things at the dinner table so many families will say over the turkey and stuffing and pumpkin pie, not wishing to mix slaughter with merriment

but you were never good at bullshitting and it was becoming harder to ignore the stench of human decay, the billions of dollars of military aid, the funding of war crimes

so maybe you will sit this Thanksgiving out, and eat with the dead, in silence, to simply say, not in my name, to proclaim, not in my fucking name

even if you know your words can never compete with the money pouring in from the arms’ lobby, as money talks louder than morals and ethics

to politicians who speak through two sides of their mouths, verbally condemning atrocities from some countries, while funding and endorsing atrocities from other countries

but don’t let my absence or my loss of appetite ruin your Thanksgiving feast, as you always knew I was a little strange, and a little sensitive, the estranged poet who writes for some psychic site called Medium

poems never hurt anyone, and you can’t load them like a fire arm or bomb buildings with them or bribe politicians with their metaphors or threaten dictators with their moral thrust

your family can eat in peace, chuckling between bites of cranberry and candied yams, and white turkey flesh, quietly shaking their heads at the expatriated black sheep

because you will bleat in scapegoated agreement, knowing it’s not personal, that humans will be humans, and life will continue even in the midst of death

____________________

Thanks for reading, and thank you to Franco Amati. Here are two more recent poems below: